Red Moon
by Delgodess
Summary: She knew what he was before she had even seen him.
1. Skin of the Beast

**AN: Just exploring what might have really happened had the Dragonborn been a Werewolf for the quest _Ill Met By Moonlight_. **

**Disclaimer: Skyrim is the property of Bethesda, etc, etc.**

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She knew what he was before she had even seen him.

Falkreath jail was dark, the torches placed there doing little to light her path. The unfeeling walls were cold, any warmth absorbed by the old stone. This place reeked of fear and anger and she shivered, almost overwhelmed by the thickness of it. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere of the jail; or perhaps it was the Hold its self. A city built around a graveyard; it was no wonder the villagers spoke softly of curses.

The grieving father's whispered words echoed in her mind, despair lasing his voice. _She… was torn to pieces…like a saber cat tears at a deer… w-we…we could barely find enough of her to bury._

She moved past the pacing guard, waving him off when he sent a questioning look her way. She remembered the mother's eyes, staring hollowly at her daughter's grave. Familiar guilt writhed in her chest, but she pushed it away harshly. The guilt was irrational, a product of her memories, not her actions. The child's death was not her doing.

This time.

It grew damp as she neared the Pit, the smell of stagnant water and filth burning her sensitive nostrils. She stepped closer to the bars, peering through the gloom at the figure leaning against the wall in the back of the cell.

Light trailed down from a hole in the ceiling, darkening the shadows and obscuring the features of the man standing in them. She leaned forward, breathing deeply, searchingly, before bringing her hand up and rapping her knuckles on the bars like one would knock on a door.

He shifted, head coming up and folded arms coming down to push himself off the wall. The filthy water splashed around his feet as he stepped forward, messy blond hair falling softly over his dirty face. He ran a hand through his hair roughly, pulling it out of the way and squinting when the sunlight made it difficult for him to see. He took another step into the light, his dirt and bloodstained body rippling with his muscle's movements.

"Come to gawk like the rest, now have you? Come to see the monster who killed a little girl?"

He called out, breathing deeply before stiffening in surprise.

His head shot up, for the first time revealing his light eyes. The sun reflected off yellow flecks in his irises, making them glow an eerie gold. He walked towards the gate slowly, cautiously entering the shadows closer to where she stood.

She leaned back, taking in the sight of him and softly breathing in his scent. Her Beast stirred, wakened by the presence of another Wolf so close by. It whined longing and pawed at its restraints, but the dark-haired Nord woman paid it no mind. The full moon was not for some days yet, and her Beast was still too weak to break free.

Not that it would.

She and it had an agreement of sorts. Work together in order to survive. Her Beast gave her no trouble, letting the young Nord deal with their "human" annoyances, while it dealt with the more "exciting" things.

Her Beast whined again, and the Nord shushed it, giving promises of long nights under starry skies. It grumbled before reluctantly going back to sleep.

She turned her attention back to the man in front of her, noting how his eyes watched her carefully and how he tried to hide taking deep breaths through his nose. She let a small smile grace her lips, amused at his reaction to her presence.

Though werewolves were more common than one would think, the vast majority of them were male. It was rare to find a female werewolf; rarer still to find a Lone one.

He caught sight of her smile and dropped all pretences. He inhaled in deeply, closing his eyes and letting the smell settle on the back of his tongue. She let herself smirk smugly, before quickly getting down to business.

"If I were here to gawk, I would be disappointed; there isn't much to gawk at."

Eyes snapping open, he snarled, and lunged towards her. His hands wrapped around the bars of his cage as he brought his face closer to hers. She stood still, unfazed by his sudden aggression.

The guard jumped, startled from his game of dice, and stood cautiously.

"Everything alright, Miss?" He called hesitantly.

She cocked her hip, staring into the prisoner's now narrowed eyes.

"Everything is fine." She answered reassuringly.

The guard mumbled to himself, sitting back on his stool and clutching his dice.

"It ain't right for 'er to be 'ere. It's dangerous! Don't even remember why I let'er. She just starting talk'in and next thing I know I'm unlock'in doors! Damn silver tongues!" he trailed off grumpily.

The beings across the room heard him, but were far too distracted by each other to pay any attention to the disgruntled guard. The prisoner growled lowly in his throat, his lip curling up over one long canine. Still the woman in front of him did nothing. He gripped the iron bars tighter, his jaw clenching before roughly grinding out:

"What do you want?"

She broke eye contact, shifting to her other hip and bringing her fingers up to examine them.

A blatant dismissal.

"Sinding, is it? I heard you killed your employer's little girl."

Her bright eyes bit sharply into his.

"Why?"

He winced, pulling back and rubbing his hands over his face. The slight Nord woman took in the warped metal of the iron bars, and then tilted her head expectantly as Sinding folded his arms and slumped against the wall nearest the gate. He sighed.

"It…it was an unfortunate accident."

She snorted loudly and he scowled, raising his voice.

"It's true! You think I wanted to…to kill that little girl? I couldn't help it! I felt _it_ coming on and she… she was so small, so helpless…such an easy kill-!"

He cut himself off, clenching his jaw and staring defiantly at the stone wall above her head.

"The child's death _is_ unfortunate. However,"

His eyes turned to her when she moved closer.

"That does not explain your actions. The Mistress's light does not shine until a few days from now. You should have been in full control of yourself _and_ your Change. Explain this to me."

So he did.

He told her of a ring that gave the wearer the power Change at will. He told her how he found the ring, how Hircine, Lord of the Hunt, became displeased with him, and how he became accursed.

His words flowed easily, perhaps encouraged because of what she was, or perhaps because after so many years as a Lone Wolf, he could not help himself.

The young Nord woman listened intently, the growling undertone in his voice relaxing her and lulling her dangerously into a feeling of security.

She watched quietly as his face and voice colored with sadness and then with despair. She let her eyes rest thoughtfully on his ring finger and the ring sitting on it.

"I was hunting the Stag when I came to this place, but now there is no hope; there is no way to appease Hircine now."

The young woman was silent for a moment, then quite suddenly said: "I could kill the Stag for you."

He choked, then stammered out, "Y-you would? That's wonderful! But are you sure? It will be difficult as well as dangerous."

She nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder and assuring him that she would be just fine.

"Then in that case…"

Rushing forward, Sinding reached through the bars and snatched up her right hand. She flinched away, surprised at his abrupt touch.

"What are you-"

"You will need this."

He said softly, gently flipping her hand and placing the ring on her finger. His hand dropped from hers and she watched in awe as the ring shrunk, fitting her perfectly. She looked up, confused.

"Wait, why do I need- Hey!"

Sinding was walking away from her, moving towards the pillar of light in the center of his cell. He twisted around, face upturned as he basked in the sunlight.

"Finally." He breathed.

He looked at her then, his mouth splitting into a grin that showed far too many teeth.

"Have fun with that, pet."

His now yellow eyes watched her as he Changed, face elongating, bones breaking, growing, and then snapping into place. Corse, black hair grew in where there once was smooth skin and hands turned into vicious claws.

Wolfish smile still on his face, even as a Beast, he raised his head and let out a joyous howl. It brought pleasant shivers to her spine, making her Beast hum in delight, and causing the dosing guard to shout out in alarm. Sinding looked at her again, still smiling, before climbing swiftly up the stone wall and out of the confines of his prison.

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**AN:Question: Has anyone else noticed that ****Aela the Huntress is the only female werewolf? Weird. Guess it doesn't really matter, what with being able to reproduce with a bite and all...**


	2. Nature of the Beast

She was a fool. A stupid, pathetic, fool. She knew what he was before she saw him. And yet she was unprepared. Werewolves were not just savage, powerful Beasts. They were cunning, calculating, _manipulating_, Beasts. They had to be if they planned on living in normal society. She knew this. She was one of them after all. Which was why she was so angry with herself.

Hope huffed in annoyance and plopped down on the nearest log. The bark dug into her bare skin, reminding her of her unclothed state as well as the hunk of metal currently fused to the finger of her right hand.

When Sinding had said he was cursed, he had conveniently forgotten to mention that it was the ring made him that way. No wonder the bastard was ginning at her like that! He had just gotten rid of a curse that activated at the most inconvenient times and caused no small amount of trouble. She sighed and slouched over. She was lucky that she had gotten away when she had the chance.

After Sinding had made his dramatic exit, Hope had had to forcibly restrain the guard and blatantly tell him that pursuit would only lead to his death. He had turned on her then, accusations flying from his mouth and spittle doing just the same. She had managed to calm him down and convince him of her innocence, but only after long hours of sitting in a jail cell. It was dusk when she had been released, emotionally worn and stinking of prison. She was relieved to find that her horse had not wandered off and grabbing its rains, dragged herself off to the nearest inn.

One cold bath and a meal later, Hope had found herself comfortably reading a book on Alterations in the fickle candle light of her bed room. She was halfway through the fourth chapter when she felt it. The familiar tingling under her skin, the sharp stabbing pain behind her eyes and the blood that rushed through her body pounding in her ears, as the Change started.

Hope had scrambled out of bed, confused by what was happening, but knowing that she had to get away and fast. She blindly grabbed at some clothes and raced to put on her boots. Hope flung herself out of her room and down the hall, struggling to compose herself as she came nearer to the Innkeeper. She was helping another guest and Hope had almost lot it when she had had to tap the Innkeepers' shoulder to get her attention. She paid the Innkeeper, quickly explaining that she would be gone for a few days and asking that her horse be taken care of.

Walking out of the tavern and past the guards on the street was torture.

Walking casually out of the city was pure agony.

She broke out into a run when she reached the forest, stopping only when she couldn't see or hear the city.

Then, she let herself go.

She howled, tearing her clothes off and writhing in pain as the Change took over. Most of what she remembers from that night is vague and blurred, but one thing stood out with startling clarity.

The rage.

For almost two weeks, the only emotion that she felt from her Beast was a burning rage that bubbled just below the surface of her conscious mind. She had tried to calm it, to talk to it through their bond, but all she could hear was angry growls. It was as if all intelligence had been taken away, leaving only bloodlust and raw instincts. It was strange and more than a little frightening.

Her Beast had never been like that. Sure, it could be a vicious, conniving bitch, but was never this aggressive. It preferred the thrill of the hunt over the thrill of the kill. Her Beast had become her friend, just as much a part of her as anything else. That it wouldn't speak to her was alarming, and at times, downright terrifying.

Hope shivered, less from the cold and more from the uncanny feeling of someone watching her. The feeling came and left suddenly, like the Changes, and she couldn't help but think they were somehow connected.

The second time the Change had come over her, she knew that she had a problem. A problem in the form of a tiny, silver, wolf-shaped ring.

Hope had tried everything she could think of to get it off: oils, butter, soaking her hand. She had even gone so far as to try to cut it off. An endeavor that she would _never_ attempt again. Her hand was still healing from when she had _missed her own finger_, and cut her palm instead.

It was only after she had unexpectedly Changed for the fifth time that she remembered what Sinding had been doing here the first place. He had been tracking a White Stag in the hopes that by killing it, he would be able to contact Hircine, there by lifting the curse.

So, out of options, patience, and new clothes, Hope had pranced off into the forest to find this elusive Stag. And as with all curses, luck was not on her side. She searched everywhere but she still hadn't seen hide or hair of the damn thing! She'd come across hunters, who all nodded exuberantly at her vague descriptions and proceeded to regale her with how they had seen it just that morning, or afternoon, or "you just missed it". Of course, they could have just been humoring her while the ogled her chest, but since they were the only leads she had, she'd smile tightly and ask them to point her in the right direction.

'At least they all pointed the same way.' Hope thought grumpily, standing up to search for some clothes that were not ripped to shreds or covered with blood. Honestly, she was surprised that she still even had clothes! Thank goodness her horse was so used to her Changes by now that it wouldn't wander too far during them.

She paced up to her horse, who eyed her disdainfully, and began rummaging in her pack.

"Oh, don't look at me that way! You _know_ I'm not doing it on purpose."

The horse snorted and went back to nibbling on some tree leaves. Hope huffed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes. Seriously, she was having conversations with her horse? Desperate times indeed.

She pulled out a tunic, shrugging at the torn edges, before dragging it over her head. It was long and plain, the brown fabric resting loosely over her naked thighs, but she wasn't going to bother with anything else. It would be easy to replace and even easier to take off, _if_ she Changed again.

Hope shifted uncomfortably, wet blood from her recent escapades making the cloth stick to her skin. A bath was in order. She lifted her head and breathed in deeply, taking in the scents of the forest, then narrowing in on the one she was searching for. She opened her eyes, (not realizing that she had closed then in the first place) and began strolling slowly in the direction of the fresh, clean, scent. Her horse's ears flickered briefly, before it too, began ambling along behind her.

Hope found herself relaxing, enjoying the sights and sounds of the forest and reveling in this rare moment of calm. The last few weeks had been stressful, anxiety and impatience with the Hunt, coupled with her sudden Changes made her paranoid. The near-constant rage from her Beast didn't help ether.

She sighed, letting herself feel the earth beneath her feet and trailing her hands along the bark of the trees as she past them. She heard the stream before she saw it, water running happily over rocks and slapping gently against the edge of the small pool it ran into. The air grew heavy with moisture and the dirt softened with each step she took.

It was beautiful; a small piece of paradise in the wilderness. She could see through the clear water all the way to the bottom, where smooth river rocks rested. Ferns and cattails lined the bank and white water lilies grew the shallows. Hope smiled blissfully, happy that things were _finally_ going her way. Her horse moved past her, leaning down and eagerly drinking from the stream. Hope turned towards the pool, intent on its cleaning waters, but froze at the sight that greeted her.

There, across from her, its white coat shimmering in the evening light, was the Stag. It was drinking, lapping up the water and causing ripples to form in the pool. Hope stood in awe, overwhelmed by the magnificence of it. It was tall, its shoulders alone coming to her head. Its hide was worn with age, scars from old battles running the length of its body and the antlers that stood out proudly rivaled anything she had ever seen. Its ears twitched and it stood up, body rippling with the movement. Its old brown eyes locked with hers, wisdom and intelligence brimming in them and Hope couldn't help but marvel that such a noble creature existed.

And she was going to kill it.

It snorted, water misting from its nose, and reared back, as if sensing her thoughts. It held her gaze for a moment longer, then disappeared in a flurry of white.

Hope started, shaking herself out of her revere, and lunged across the stream after it. She ran, forgetting in her haste that she had no bow, no weapon, with which to kill it. Adrenaline soared through her veins, the almost invisible trail flying past her as she raced forward. She took a deep breath, forever locking the Stag's scent in her memory, and plunged through the undergrowth.

Grabbing branches ripped at her skin and harsh rocks cut at her feet, as if the whole forest wished to stop her. Hope began to tire, her feeble human body giving in to exhaustion.

Then her Beast woke and a savage howl tore from her lips. The blood of the Wolf burned in her as she ran, lending strength to her limbs and breath to her lungs. Her senses heightened, bringing the scenery sharply into focus.

She ran for hours, tiring her elusive query, and reveling in the Chase. And when her human form could truly take no more, she screamed in agony even as she ran, tunic tearing from her body as the Change remade her from the inside out. Gone was all thought of the curse, gone was everything that had come before. There was just the Chase, the wind ripping past her and the harsh pants of the prey before her.

The black Wolf howled with joy, basking in its freedom and rolling in the essence of Night. The Wolf closed in on the Stag, nipping at its heels to make the Chase last.

The Stag's white coat was lathered with sweat, gasping breaths forcing themselves into its body as it fled, its eyes wide with terror. For it knew that there would be no escaping _this_ Hunter. This was its last Chase, and _it_ would not be the victor.

At last growing impatient, the Wolf leapt, colliding bodily with the Stag and tearing into its hide as they went down. The Stag bellowed in pain, kicking out with its legs to dislodge the Hunter, then lowering its head to gorge her with its antlers. She snarled, rolling away but taking a glancing blow to her ribs. The She-Wolf lashed out with her claws, breaking bones and slashing skin. Blood sprayed upwards, coating the surrounding flora in a shimmering red. The Stag moaned, sliding to its knees and jerking its head sharply in the Wolf's direction. The Wolf circled its prey, licking its wounds and baring its teeth aggressively as it waited for the Stag to bleed out. Long minutes passed, its strength waning, and soon the Stag lowered its heavy head.

Then the Wolf attacked, ripping at its throat and splitting its chest open like a melon. She plunged her head into the cavity, sharp teeth ripping at muscle and feasting on its still beating heart. The Stag's body spasmed, once, twice, before laying still, its once beautiful bight eyes glassy in death.

The Wolf ate her fill, satisfied with the Hunt and with her meal. When she was finished, the Wolf stood and began walking leisurely from her conquest, teeth and claws receding, bones morphing and coarse black fur falling like ash from smooth white skin.

Hope fell to her knees, shaking from excursion and gasping for air. Her dark, blood soaked hair curtained her face, the hand hold her up clutching at the earth for support. She wrapped her other arm around her chest, pressing firmly to her still open wound with her free hand.

Once the adrenaline had faded and the breath came more easily to her lungs, Hope sat back and took in her surroundings.

She was in an unfamiliar meadow; the half-moon's light illuminating the expanse around her. There were wild flowers everywhere, some buds tightly closed for the night and others spread wide. To her left was a tiny stream, its water reflecting the moon light as it moved slowly by. She twisted her head around, senses still heighted by such an intense night of Hunting. Just beyond the Stag's body was an enormous fallen tree, its trunk half as round as she was tall. And all of it was stained red.

Hope sighed and closed her eyes.

No matter how many times she had seen it, she would never get used to the sight of freshly-spilt blood.

The night was calm, peaceful and silent, the Beast's rage inside her finally quenched.

She stood, ignoring the carcass behind her and making her way to the stream. Wind blew gently over her naked body, causing goose bumps to appear and rise on her skin.

Hope shivered from the cold and…from something else.

She tensed, and stretched her awareness to its fullest. She had felt these eyes on her before.

Slow clapping started, and Hope whirled around, her searching eyes darting quickly to the moon lit figure sitting casually on the log.

"Impressive. For you to kill such a beast on your own…it's delicious."

The male, (to mistake him for anything else would be ridiculous) sat with one leg hanging over the trunk and the other casually pulled up to his chest. An arm rested on his knee, clawed hand flexing absently and the other curled casually around a long, jagged, spear. His bare chest seemed to glow in the moon's light and the rest of his body was covered by an assortment of furs. His face was hidden, deer skull mask and wolf pelt turned towards her as he spoke.

The shadows behind the eyes of his mask scared her and Hope had to fight the sudden urge to flee as far from here as she could, as fast as she could. Her Beast cringed inside her, tucking in its tail and making its self as small as possible. They both knew they were in the presence of a predator, perhaps the Ultimate Predator.

She stood frozen as he slid gracefully from the tree, lithe body covering ground quickly as he stalked towards her.

"And what can I do for one such as you?" He circled her, his voice sliding over her like silk.

"A boon? A gift, for such a beauty, covered in red?" He stepped closer, sliding a clawed hand over her ribs and down to her wound.

"Or perhaps," He dug his finger in, drawing blood, "A night to remember?"

Hope flinched, slapping his hand away and giving in to the urge to distance herself from his disturbing presence.

"Save your praise." She bit out, "You are Hircine are you not? I want this removed. Permanently."

She raised her right hand, making sure the cursed ring was plainly visible. He stilled, muscles tensing, and for a moment, Hope thought he would strike her for her impertinence. Then he relaxed, lifting up his hand as she quickly lowered hers to her chest.

"Humm."

He cocked his head, staring thoughtfully at his bloodied fingers before bringing them slowly up under his mask. Hope's keen ears heard a wet pop, eyes narrowing when he lowered his now spotless fingers.

He began circling her again, movements fluid.

"I will remove it for you, but I have a," he paused, "_favor_, to ask of you."

He prowled closer and Hope eyed him warily.

"What is it?"

"Well, you see…" His arm darted out, winding around her waist and bringing her flush against his hard body.

Hope stiffened in surprise then began frantically shoving at his chest. His hold tightened painfully and she stilled when she felt his hot breath on her ear.

"I want Sinding _dead_."

His voice was a dangerous whisper, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her hip in a mockery of comfort.

She shivered and he chuckled darkly, stabbing his spear into the ground beside them and taking her right hand in his.

"He thinks that he can _hide_. That he has found somewhere _safe_. He is _wrong_."

He leaned back, the fathomless black sockets of the skull piercing through her.

"In one weeks time it will be the Blood Moon. The Hunt will begin. I want you to find him," He pulled her closer, "and _kill_ him."

He brought their entwined hands up to his chest and released her waist. Brushing a dark strand hair behind her ear tenderly, and then bringing his free hand up to gently cup her face, he whispered softly,

"Do this, and you will be _richly_ rewarded."

And then he was gone.

Hope collapsed, shaking uncontrollably and holding a hand up to her mouth to muffle her gasps of terror. She felt her wound and winced. It was bleeding again. Taking a shuddering breath, Hope lifted herself to a stand, only to fall back in amazement. She held up her right hand, marveling at it as the sun peaked over the horizon.

The ring was gone.

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**AN: **

**#1 Ok, right now you are probably thinking, "Hey! Hircine didn't appear in his true form! He was a deer!" Yeah. I know. But I think that the Hunt God showing up as a **_**deer**_**, of all things, is pretty lame. So I changed it. And besides, Daedric Princes can't **_**actually**_** show up in the mortal world, (without an Oblivion Gate) so Hircine is just using the spirit of the deer to **_**assume**_** his true form. He is not **_**really **_**there. And FYI: He is not saying word for word what he said in the game. I'm trying to be creative, while sticking to the gist of what was said.**

**#2 Why is he getting all up in her personal space? Because he is a Daedric Prince and they LOVE to mess with people. And I've decided that Hope is beautiful. Like, drool worthy, beautiful. So there. And one more thing, I think that the Daedric Princes not really having a sex is ridiculous. It makes dealing with them kinda difficult and writing about them even more so. I say, choose one and stick to it! Sheesh. **

**#3 I used drkslyr's drawing of Hircine on deviantart as inspiration. If you want to see it, the link is on my profile. **

**Review please! I want to know what I can do to get better! Thanks!**

**~Delgodess**


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